


more than friends

by iwritetrash



Series: be all my sins remembered [1]
Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: "Platonic" sleeping together, Accidental Falling In Love, Alfred is the Other Woman, Bittersweet Ending, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Smoking, Unhappy Marriage (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 16:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13344837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/pseuds/iwritetrash
Summary: Alfred had been sleeping with Edward for two years now, pretending all the while that it was just sex, because neither of them would be able to cope with the possibility that it was anything more. Edward could never leave his wife, Florence, especially not for a man, for fear of the ramifications it might have regarding his career, his family, and the entire world in which he lives. And Alfred couldn’t bear to know that Edward loved him, but couldn’t truly be with him; the very idea was soul-destroying.~alfred has been in love with edward for almost as long as he's known him. the catch? edward is married, which only makes what they're doing even worse.





	more than friends

**Author's Note:**

> i tried so hard to write something happy and all i got was this steaming pile of angst. i guess it has a sort of vaguely if-you-look-really-closely happy ending... anyway i hope you like your fics angsty because that's all i've got really.
> 
> enjoy!

_This hotel is dingy as fuck_ , Alfred thinks, as he fiddles with the radiator knob to try and warm the room up a little before Edward arrives. The curtains are stained and faded, the carpet has seen better days, and the walls are a disgusting shade of mottled green. It certainly doesn’t scream romance, nor does it make Alfred feel any more comfortable with what he’s doing, because what he’s doing is something he’d always told himself he’d never stoop low enough to do.

He’s sleeping with a married man, who just so happens to be his best friend.

Alfred had never set out to fall in love with Edward, because he’d witnessed first-hand the carnage which follows one friend falling in love with another. It never ends well. Unfortunately, Edward had a way of worming his way into Alfred’s heart and setting up a camp there, where he’d remained for the past five years.

He had been married for four of those years. Alfred had been the best man at Edward’s wedding, most of which he was too drunk to really remember, busy drowning his sorrows in alcohol.

Alfred had been sleeping with Edward for two years now, pretending all the while that it was _just sex_ , because neither of them would be able to cope with the possibility that it was anything more. Edward could never leave his wife, Florence, especially not for a man, for fear of the ramifications it might have regarding his career, his family, and the entire world in which he lives. And Alfred couldn’t bear to know that Edward loved him, but couldn’t truly be with him; the very idea was soul-destroying.

So they keep up this pretence. They meet at the same shitty hotel perhaps once a week, maybe more if Edward feels like it, maybe less if they’re busy. They have sex, they lie there for as long as they can without toeing the line between _just sex_ and _something more_ , and then Edward goes home to his wife, and Alfred goes home to his cats.

That’s why Alfred is here now, waiting for a man who shouldn’t come to him, standing by the window and trying not to set off the fire alarms with the cigarette he’s smoking. He wonders sometimes what it might be like to run away, with Edward, or without him, to just disappear to another country and start a new life away from all this pain and the strange new man he’s become.

His phone buzzes. A text from Edward.

_There in 10 mins, just left now x_

Alfred sighs, takes another drag of his cigarette, and returns to his thoughts.

He’s plotted out every scenario in his head a million times, after Edward leaves late at night, or when Alfred is left waiting for a long time. He’s imagined running away on his own and starting a new life somewhere far away from him, without Edward, and his wife, without this dreadful hotel, and without all the heartbreak that happens within it.

He’s also imagined Edward coming with him, the two of them leaving everything behind for the sake of love and riding off into the sunset together. It’s more like a distant fantasy than a reality. A pretty picture, but too intangible to really believe.

Worst of all, he’s imagined a day when Edward breaks off their arrangement and expects them to just go back to being friends. Alfred would be forced to relinquish the small scrap of Edward’s heart that he clings to, to give up the one thing that keeps him hoping for something better, the one thing keeping him anchored in this shitty town.

Alfred would stay, even then, he knows that. How could he leave, after all, without half of his heart?

So perhaps he’ll never leave, and maybe he’ll never leave behind this heartbreak that sits heavy in his chest all the time, but at least he has a piece of Edward, right? Better a piece than nothing at all.

Edward arrives exactly when he said he would, and greets Alfred with a kiss on the cheek. They have sex, and it’s good. Is it worth it, though, Alfred wonders, when it’s all done? Is it worth the heartache that comes as collateral damage?

Alfred looks over at Edward, lying next to him looking like some greek god, skin shining a little with sweat, shadows from the dim light emphasising the sharp lines of his cheekbones, his hair mussed up by the sheets so that curls fall over his forehead. This is the man Alfred would spend a lifetime with, if only he’d let him.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, _it’s worth the heartache._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3


End file.
